Met around the sacred tomb,
Friends of Je­sus, why those tears?
Mid this sad sepulchral gloom
Shall your faith give way to fears?
He will soon, e’en as He said,
Rise triumphant from the dead.

Hidden from all ages past
Was the cross’ mystery,
Doubts awhile a veil had cast
O’er that first dear family;
Till they saw Him, and believed,
And as Lord and God received.

Now with tears of love and joy,
We remember all His pain,
Sighs and groans and dying cry;
For the Lamb for us was slain,
And, from death our souls to save,
Once for us lay in the grave.

Hither, sinners, all repair,
And with Je­sus Christ be dead;
All are safe from Satan’s snare,
Who to Je­sus’ tomb have fled;
Here the weary and oppressed
Find a ne­ver ending rest.

Wounded Sav­ior, full of grace,
Hast Thou suffered thus for me?
Ah! I hide my blushing face;
How have I requited Thee?
Should not I with ardor burn
Some love’s token to return?

But alas, the spark how small!
Scarcely seen at all to glow;
Lord, Thou know’st how short I fall;
And my growth in grace how slow;
Yet when to Thy cross I fly,
Soon all strange affections die.

In Thy death is all my trust,
I have Thee my refuge made;
And when once, consigned to dust,
In the tomb my body’s laid,
Then with savèd souls above
I will praise Thy dying love.

But while here I’m left behind,
Burdened with infirmity,
May I help and comfort find,
Visiting Geth­se­ma­ne,
Calvary and Joseph’s tomb,
Till my Sabbath’s also come.